


Resting Alone

by HackerAxe



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Clemen's Point, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Napping, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 21:50:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21022805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HackerAxe/pseuds/HackerAxe
Summary: "That rat sleeps?" He scoffed, albeit with some genuine surprise. "Leave 'em be, maybe we can all get some peace.""Even him?" She questioned. "...Even Micah."





	Resting Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This small fluff segment was briefly considered to be apart of my main, longer Morbell story, Redemption is Hereby Mine, but I decided this filler could be read by anyone! I hope you enjoy some harmless, short fluff!

Peace.

It was the only way to describe that feeling from what he’s ever heard from others. A word he’d never dare say, a feeling _he’d_ never dare allow, but he was long since dead. At this time, so were those damnable recurring memories and commands. Goosebumps decorated his pale, scar adorned skin and made light fur with his blonde forearm hairs. They swayed to the rhythm of the breeze that carried saucy, meaty dinner aromas to and fro within the camp.

Rowdy as usual yet drifting further and further away into the outskirts of the lakes it seemed, Micah was in a secluded place of his own with every drowsy blink the world around him merged further and further into a dream. Heavier those baggy eyelids became, resisting the effort of staying awake. Heavier and heavier his bones felt, not moving from the wooden, old table that felt like all but a comfortable bed all in itself.

He dreamed of earlier that morning, the simplest yet most priceless gift he could have gotten. That smile. That glowing smile that shone a light into his darkest hell, collapsing its prison walls one by one. It drove the thorns and vines away from his wrists and melted the cold that penetrated his heart for years. The scars from his chin and the crude shave he adorned every day could never dare take away from Arthur’s golden smile. As golden as the sun warming the Earth who’s beauty had been overlooked in Micah’s life until this grand, serene day. The path in the tall grass caused the snakes to flee, leaving room for birds to trot about once more. To gain one more chance at their lives. On this path, in his sweet, comforting dreams, Micah joined them. He joined the birds, rabbits, and even the strong buck that held him close enough by the shoulder that he could hear the songs in his heart.

They were alone. They were safe. Just like Arthur promised when he held his rough and protective palms on his face, Micah’s layers breaking at the foundations. The dams bled tears aged for 30 years, but Arthur’s hands never made the effort to repair the strained holes. He encouraged the river to flow back into the ocean, even if it meant flooding the world up to Arthur’s ears. His encouragement destroyed the industrial horrors by man to restore life back to how it should have been. To prove what it could have been if they were not alone. But now, they must be alone.

This warm afternoon, they were alone. Micah knew this in his sleep when those same hands stroked his back. Strong, enduring, giving hands. Just like his mother’s. She was smiling.

He was smiling. His father hadn’t let Micah sleep in days, but he had finally left. The clouds had finally left. It was warm, now. It was pleasant. Stuffed with plentiful feathers after having being raised empty, stroked with a caress when his battered skin only recognized wounds, given warmth when his blood became accustomed to the winters, Micah finally understood peace. Peace in reassuring darkness when his eyelids completely sealed that was illuminated by the golden smile.

Peace, peace.

Among the stillness over thirteen hours, Micah rested in peace.

Or so Arthur nearly assumed when he panicked to awake him after Micah’s long slumber.

“Micah! Micah, wake up!”

Was it over already? Micah had finally opened his eyes to find his cheek burning from detaching it from his leather sleeve. “What, what’s goin’ on cowpoke?”

“It’s been… christ, well over twelve hours! Nearly thought you was dead!”

They weren’t alone anymore. They couldn’t have been. The warmth had left some time ago, and so did the rowdiness of the new mid-day.

“...and you ain’t happy ‘bout that?”

Arthur scoffed. “Get the hell up, blondey. C’mon. We got a stagecoach comin’ along soon to rob.”

“Well, after you Morgan,” Micah chuckled, snorting a considerable inhale through his nose and mouth.

“After you.”


End file.
